The man seated beside Willa cleared his throat. She had almost forgotten that he was there. “My mudder doesn’t speak Englisch often, so it is goot for her to practice.”
Lucy hurried after the woman. “I want another sandwich, please.”
Megan followed her. “Me, too.”
Lucy frowned at her sister. “My sandwich, not yours!”
“I want one!” Megan fisted her hands on her hips.
“Lucy, Megan, you can each have your own sandwich,” Willa said to end the mutiny she saw brewing. Their normal bickering relieved her mind. They didn’t seem traumatized by what had happened.
Now that she knew her girls were safe, she turned her attention to the man at the end of the sofa. “How did we get here, and where is here?”
He scowled at her. “I have many questions for you, too. I happened to notice your buggy going past my lane with no one driving. I assumed it was a runaway and ran to catch it. Your girls were in the back seat and you were unconscious on the floorboard up front. What happened to you?”
She raised a hand to her aching head. She found a bandage above her temple. “I must have fainted and hit my head. I haven’t been feeling well.” She didn’t tell him she hadn’t eaten. Another deep cough followed her words and left her head spinning.
“You don’t remember what happened?”
They’d slept in the buggy again last night. Rather, the girls had slept. Willa’s nagging cough had kept her awake. She had a vague memory of hitching up the horse at dawn. After that, only bits and pieces of traveling along the winding roadways came to mind. Nothing about how she had hurt her head.
“I don’t remember much after starting out on the road this morning.”
He eyed her intently. “You are not Amish and yet you and your children are dressed in our way and traveling by buggy. Why? What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
She scowled at his rapid-fire questions. “I wasn’t looking for you.”
“You told me you were visiting your grandfather, Ezekiel Lapp.”
“I did see Grandfather. He gave me the horse and buggy so that I could visit other family members.” Even with this kind man, she couldn’t bring herself to share information about her destination. She’d spent too many years hiding where she was from and where she was going.
She knew the Amish bonnets would fool the casual observers, but not the real deal. Willa Chase and her children had to disappear. Someone looking for them wouldn’t look twice at an Amish woman traveling with two children in a buggy. This man already knew she wasn’t Amish, so she decided to tell him the truth, just not the whole truth.
“My parents left the church when I was young. I have decided to return to the faith and raise my children to be Amish, but I wanted to get reacquainted with my other relatives and spend Christmas with them before I decide where to settle.”
“You are not shunned?”
She looked at him in surprise. “No. I wasn’t baptized when my parents made the decision to leave. They were shunned by our congregation, but my parents are both gone now.”
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Our ways are goot ways to raise kinder. This is also the wish of your husband?”
Willa stared at her hands clenched together in her lap. “He died last May.”
Her life had been a constant struggle since the horrible moment she received the news that Glen had been killed. Now that her grandfather had turned her away, she had one slim hope left—that her Amish great-aunt Ada or perhaps her cousin Mark or her cousin Miriam would take them in.
“I am sorry you lost your husband. I know it must have been difficult for you,” the man said softly.
The compassion in his voice touched her deeply. “Danki.”
She put aside her grief and focused on the present. “And thank you for stopping my runaway carriage. You have come to my rescue twice now and I don’t even know your name.”
“John Miller. My mother is Vera Miller.”
“I’m Willa Lapp.” She gave her maiden name, unable to look John Miller in the eyes as she did so. “You have already met my daughters, Megan and Lucy. Where are we?”
His mother came in and handed Willa a steaming bowl of chicken soup and a spoon. “Eat. Your babe needs nourishment.”
Willa took a sip and the hot, delicious broth drove away her nausea. “This is good. Danki.”
“Eat it all.” The woman went back to the kitchen.
“You are at my home near Bowmans Crossing,” John said.
The soup was warming Willa from the inside out. The chunks of chicken were tender and the noodles were the thick homemade kind her mother used to make. The name of the town he mentioned didn’t ring a bell. “Is that close to Hope Springs?”
He shook his head. “You are a long way from there and traveling in the wrong direction if that is where you’re headed.”
She digested this unwelcome news. She had hoped to find her great-aunt before dark. She didn’t want to spend another night on the open road. “Thank you for your help, but I must get going.”
“Your horse needs rest and your buggy needs repairs. I can fix it, but it will take some time.”
Disappointment weighed her down. She was so tired. Why couldn’t one thing go right? “I’m afraid I can’t pay you for any repairs.”
“I have not asked for payment.”
He rose and took the empty bowl from her hands. “You need rest, Willa Lapp. Don’t worry about your kinder. Mamm will look after them. She also is not a killer of serials.”
Willa had to smile at his mistaken turn of the phrase. “The term is serial killer.”
She remembered how difficult it could be to translate the Pennsylvania Deitsh language of her youth into English. An Amish fellow might say he would go the road up and turn the gate in.
John frowned slightly as he repeated her words, “Serial killer. Danki. She is also not one of those. She has fixed a bed for you.”
Willa wanted to protest, but she could barely keep her eyes open. She did need rest. Just a short nap while he fixed her buggy, then she would be on her way. She prayed her great-aunt would be as kind to her as this man and his mother had been.
Her eyes drifted closed. She barely noticed when John’s mother came back into the room. “Bring her, John, she’s too worn-out to walk.”
John lifted Willa in his arms. She wanted to protest, but she didn’t have the strength. Her head lolled against his shoulder. For the first time in months, she felt truly safe, but it was only an illusion. Someone wanted to steal her daughters away. She was their only protection. She couldn’t let down her guard.
* * *
John waited until his mother pulled back the covers, then he laid Willa gently on the bed in the guest room and took a step back. He hooked his thumbs through his suspenders, feeling ill at ease and restless. This woman brought out his protective instincts and he didn’t want to feel responsible for her or for her children. He needed to get back to work. The forge would be cooling by now. He’d have to fire it up again. More time and fuel wasted.
His mother began removing Willa’s shoes. “What did she say about pretending to be Amish?”
“She said she was raised Amish but her parents left the church. She wants to return and raise her children in our faith.”
“Then we must do what we can for her. Does she have people nearby?”
“Near Hope Springs, I think. That’s where she was heading.”
“That is a long trip from here with such little ones. Joshua Bowman’s wife, Mary, is from there. Perhaps they know each other. Did you tell her she was welcome to spend the night with us?”
“Nee. I did not, and why should I? She wants to leave.” He didn’t want them here another hour, let alone overnight.
His
mother made shooing motions with her hands. “Your work will keep, but go if you must. I will see to her. You can keep the kinder occupied for me. Outside is best, for I want this young mother to get plenty of rest. I am worried about her babe.”
He took a quick step back from the bed. “You think she might give birth here?”
“If the bobli wants to come, nothing we do or say will stop it, but there is no sense hurrying his or her arrival for lack of a little rest. Go along. You won’t be any help if she does go into labor.”
She was right about that. He was a volunteer firefighter along with many of his neighbors, but running into a burning house was not as scary as a woman giving birth. “Call me if you need me.”
“I can handle this. Get out from underfoot.”
Mamm was a tiny thing and crippled with arthritis that twisted her hands, but she was still a force to be reckoned with when she set her mind to something.
He found the twins sitting at the table in the kitchen. They watched him warily. He could see subtle differences in their features, but he wasn’t sure which was which. Both of them were without their kapps. “Come outside and help me with my chores. Your mother is taking a nap.”
“Will we see a cow?” The girl closest to him asked.
“Which one are you?”
“Told you. I’m Lucy.”
“That’s right, you did.”
Her sister licked a smear of jam from the back of her hand. “Cows yucky. I’m this many.” She held up three fingers.
Lucy nodded and folded her fingers into the correct number. “I’m this many.”
Megan pointed to him. “How old are you?”
“Older than all your fingers and toes together.”
“I can count. One, two, four, five, three.” Lucy ticked off each finger.
“That’s very good. Put on your coats. Would you like to feed the goats?”
“Same as at the zoo?” Lucy nodded vigorously.
John had no idea how they fed goats at a zoo, but he figured it couldn’t be much different than what he did. He helped Lucy into her coat.
Megan pulled away from him when he tried to help her. “I can do it.”
She got her coat on but couldn’t manage the buttons. It was getting cold outside, so he buttoned her coat in spite of her protests and held open the door for them when he was done. Megan hung back until Lucy went out, then she hurried after her sister.
“Where’s my horsey? Give him back.” Megan narrowed her eyes as she looked up at him. She pointed to her mother’s buggy sitting beside the barn. He’d fetched it after his mother arrived home and stabled the tired horse.
“I didn’t steal her. She is resting in the barn just as your mother is resting in the house.”
“What’s a barn?” Lucy waited for his answer.
“That big red building.”
He figured that was enough information. He was wrong. He wasn’t prepared for the barrage of questions a pair of three-year-olds could ask, but he soon learned their curiosity was endless. Most of the time he understood only half of what they were chattering about and he couldn’t keep the two of them straight when they darted every which way so quickly.
“Why are cows brown?”
“God made them that color.”
“What do cows eat?”
“Hay.” He forked some over the stall to his milk cow Maybell.
“What’s hay?”
“Dried grass.”
“You have a funny hat, Johnjohn.”
“It’s just John.”
“Can cow come in the house?” one asked.
He quickly shook his head. “Nee, the cow can’t come in the house.”
The other child parked her hands on her hips. “Cow come with me!”
“No,” he repeated sternly.
A mutinous expression appeared on her face and she shook a finger at him. “Don’t tell me no!”
He leaned down to look into her eyes. “No!”
Tears welled up and quickly spilled down her cheeks. “You bad man.”
He raised his eyes to the barn ceiling. How did they know at this young age that tears could turn a man’s resolve into putty? “I am not bringing a cow into the house.”
“I see kitty,” one said and ran toward the yellow tabby perched on the window ledge.
Her sister’s tears vanished, and she went running toward the animal, too. The cat didn’t care for the sudden attention. She jumped down and scampered out the door.
Both children turned toward him. One scowled. “Kitty ran ’way.”
“I don’t blame her. I’d like to do that myself.” He decided the frowning one was Megan and decided to test his theory. “Megan, do you like goats?”
She nodded. Okay, he had that right. “Come, we will feed them now.”
He gave each child a pail of grain. His small herd crowded around the children, eager to reach the feed. Lucy petted the head of each goat that came to investigate her. “Me like goats.”
“They can’t come in the house,” he said quickly to forestall another episode of tears.
“Okeydokey,” Lucy said.
“Where did you girls come from?” he asked, hoping to get more information about them.
Lucy pointed toward the road.
“What town did you come from?” he asked to be more specific. He was more curious about their pretty mother than he cared to admit.
Megan sighed deeply. “Our town.”
Lucy’s lower lip trembled. “Me want to sleep in my bed.”
“You will sleep in a warm bed tonight, I promise.” He laid a hand on her head. To his surprise, she wrapped her arms around his legs.
She looked up at him. “You nice, Johnjohn.”
“No! Bad man,” Megan yelled. She yanked Lucy away from him, making Lucy wince at the tight grip on her arm.
John leaned down to frown at Megan. “That was unkind. You must tell your shveshtah you are sorry and ask her forgiveness.”
For a second he thought she would defy him, but she put her arms around Lucy and pulled her close. “I’m sorry.”
Lucy pulled away and sniffled. “It’s okay.”
John stood up straight. “Goot. Your family is second only to God in your life. You must care for each other always. Let’s go milk the cow. Maybe your mother will be awake by then and I can get back to work.” His first order of business was to see what was wrong with the rear wheels of their buggy. His mother was insistent that they stay overnight, but he wanted them on their way first thing tomorrow.
His attempt to milk the cow proved far more difficult than he had imagined. In spite of his cautions, Lucy tried to catch Maybell’s tail as Megan crawled under her belly to see what he was doing. The cow jumped and almost upset his milk pail when Lucy squealed loudly. She had spotted Maybell’s twin calves in the next pen. The girls climbed the wooden fence and jabbered to each other and to the curious calves in a steady stream of words he couldn’t hope to keep up with.
They squealed again. He grabbed the pail as the cow kicked nervously. His chores had never been so nerve-racking. A glance over his shoulder revealed five kittens had come out of the hay to get their supper portion of fresh milk. The cats beat a hasty retreat when the girls rushed them.
“Johnjohn, why kitties run away?” Lucy demanded.
“You scared them by being too noisy. You must be quiet around the animals.”
“Why?”
“Because all creatures enjoy peace and quiet. Including this blacksmith.”
“Kitties!” Megan said, pointing toward the top of the hay bales where the litter had taken refuge.
“Leave them alone, and they will come down.” He poured a portion of the milk into a small wooden trough.
He walked to the barn door and held it open. “Come, we must take the millich to Mamm so we can have fresh cream on our oatmeal tomorrow morning.”
They were halfway across the front yard when the door of the house flew open, and Willa came rushing out. Her cheeks were bright red and her eyes were glassy. “I’ve slept too long. We have to be on our way. Get in the buggy, girls. Where is my horse?”
His mother came out of the house and took hold of Willa’s arm. “You are feverish, child. You can’t travel today.”
“I have to go. You don’t understand. I have to go or they will take my babies away from me.” She staggered closer to John. “I need a horse. Please, get my horse.”
He looked at his mother, and she shook her head. He spoke softly to Willa. “You can’t go until you are better. The girls are fine. See?”
He stepped aside so she could see them. “No one is going to take them. They are safe here. Go back into the house, where it’s warm.”
She clasped her arms across her chest. A shiver racked her body. A second later, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed. He managed to catch her before she hit the ground.
He headed toward the house with her in his arms. By the time he reached the steps, her eyes fluttered open. She pushed against his chest. “I’m fine. Put me down.”
“You aren’t fine and you aren’t going anywhere except back to bed. You will stay there until my mother tells you that you may get up. Is that understood?”
“I need to get to Hope Springs tonight. I can’t let the children spend another night on the road.” He barely heard her hoarse whisper.
“You can’t get to Hope Springs before nightfall. It’s a two-day trip from here.”
“That can’t be.”
“Your horse must have carried you many miles out of your way. You can send a letter to your family, telling them that you have been delayed. Or I can use the neighborhood phone and call them if you will give me a number. That way they won’t be worrying about you.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “They aren’t expecting me.”
He stood aside so his mother could open the door for him. “That’s goot. They can be just as surprised and happy to see you when you are well. Now, back to bed with you.”
Amish Christmas Twins Page 4